


Anapanasati

by monotufu



Series: Tumblr Prompts [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Awkward Flirting, M/M, Nervous Boyd, Nervousness, erica is a shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 03:08:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7784320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monotufu/pseuds/monotufu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>anonymus asked:<br/>You write stoyd so perfect! May you please write a stoyd where Boyd is nervous about asking Stiles to prom ?</p>
<p>Breathe.</p>
<p>In.</p>
<p>Out.</p>
<p>In.</p>
<p>Ou-Oh god what if he says no.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anapanasati

**Author's Note:**

> Anapanasati, according to Google, is the practice of meditative breathing. Means "breath mindfulness".

Breathe.

In.

Out.

In.

Ou-Oh god what if he says no.

Choking, Boyd panicked for a moment before a cushion smacked into his nose.

“I thought I said breathe, not die.” Rubbing his nose Boyd looked up at Erica to watch her eyes roll back to him.

“I can’t do this. What if he doesn’t want to go with me?” Eyes should not be able to roll that much.

“Stiles is a nerd. A hot, nice nerd who is a strangely popular person, but a nerd. He’ll be glad to be asked, and he’ll flail and then say yes on instinct.”

Great. What a pep talk.

“Thanks, Erica. I don’t know how I’d live without you.” Blissfully. Without stress.

Quietly.

“You would come crawling back within the hour.” 

Well, yeah. That’s true. Shaking his head he tried breathing again.

In. Out. I-what if he has a date alrea-

“Where are you getting all these cushions from?” He glanced at where she sat against the head of his bed, slightly to one side. Leaning back he looked at the floor in front of his nightstand.

“Did you dismantle my couch.” She shrugged, unrepentant.

“Partially.” Shooting him a stern look, she placed a threatening hand on the top of the pile of cushions waiting to be acquainted with his face.

Right. Breathing.

* * *

Walking down the hallway Boyd tried not to pass out. Glancing at Erica, he figured he could trust that she would bring him back if he died right now. If only to laugh him back into an early grave, but still.

“You’ll be fine. He’s going to say yes, Vern. Then you’ll both go to prom, drink some spiked punch, dance like idiots, and then get married and make loud, hyper babies.”

“Why do you have to do that. I almost psyched myself up to ditch you, but now you’re being helpful…ish.” He was proud his voice hadn’t come out wavering. Did he have a fever, why were his palms so clammy?

“It’s my job. Love through sheer irritation.”

Walking outside, he tried to remember that this would not be the end of the world. He would move on if this didn’t work out, and he wouldn’t pine, or mope, or write sad song lyrics that would make his friends never talk to him agai-

SMACK

“Ow! Erica!”

"If you think for one second that I’m going to let you mope yourself into a puddle on the ground, you’ve got more than a slap to the head coming!“ 

Rubbing his forehead he glared halfheartedly at her. Her glare was much more fiery, and his fizzled out to resignation.

“Fine, but no more hitting. I’m staring to feel very victimized in this relationship.”

Erica huffed, and then looped her arm through his to pull him along towards the bleachers. 

“Wait. I’m not ready, all we did was breathe, what do I say to him?” He pulled her to a stop, close enough to see Stiles sitting with a small group of people on the seats. He had a beanie pulled on over his soft, brown hair and his sketch pad was open on his lap. A pencil twirled between his fingers, stopping when he tipped his head back and laughed at something his friend, Scott, had said.

“Boyd!” Whipping his head back to his own friend he jerked back away from the fingers hovering an inch from his face, poised to flick him. She rolled her eyes at the look he shot her, but lowered her hand.

“What, you only said no hitting.” She reached into her leather jacket and pulled out a small stack of cards. “As for what to say, I made you cue-cards!” She pushed them into his hands, unlooped their arms, and shoved him towards the stands.

“Wha-” He caught himself before he fell and was about to tell her to very kindly do something anatomically impossible when a voice startled him.

“Are you okay?”

Oh shit. Shit, shit double shitty-

“It’s Vernon, right?” Turning towards the voice he was met with wide, honey eyes and a small smile working it’s way across a soft looking mouth.

“Y-yeah. Though most people call me Boyd, and Erica calls me Vern, but you can call me Vernon. Yeah, sure. Vernon.” Rambling. Nice.

Stiles laughed, eyes crinkling and hands coming up to go into the pockets of his jeans. If anyone could lounge standing up, apparently it was Stiles.

“Vernon it is. I like it.” 

“Me too.” What. “I mean, of course! It’s my name, so of course.” Shut up!

It got another warm chuckle, so he must be doing something good. They stared at each other for a few seconds before his nerves began to creep up on him again. Scrambling to think of something to say, he looked down at his hands. Cue-cards!

He looked back up at Stiles, whose face had turned curious, and then cleared his throat and started to read the cards aloud. 

“Hi, my name is Vernon and I was wondering if you would like to go to prom and have my babie- Erica! What the fuck?!” 

Riotous laughter from behind him was his only answer. She was dead to him.

He could feel his face burning and slowly lifted his eyes to meet Stiles’ again. Stiles, who appeared to be having some sort of facial spasm.

“Um. Erica can be kind of an asshole, and I would say she means well but I’m pretty sure I’m just here for her entertainment. I’m just gonna…” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder, spun around, and began to march his way back to the school.

“Wait!” A warm hand wrapped around his arm. He stopped and turned his wide eyes to Stiles.

Stiles who was blushing.

“I, uh.” 

Stiles who was flustered.

“You…?” He knew his voice sounded far too hopeful, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Stiles took a breath.

In.

Out.

“I would love to go to prom with you.”

_Breathe._

**Author's Note:**

> I really like this one, mostly because Boyd and Erica are just the greatest to write together!


End file.
